


Siren's Song

by villainsarebetter (darkling59)



Series: Siren's Song [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Rumbelle Christmas in July
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkling59/pseuds/villainsarebetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My RCIJ gift for the amazing rainydaybatsy!</p><p>"Belle learned the Siren’s charm out of simple curiosity and a love of adventure stories and fantastical beasts…but she never expected it to be effective against the Dark One. "</p><p>Prompts: flicker, brazen, musical, clockwork, AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RainyDayBatsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyDayBatsy/gifts).



Belle learned how to Charm from an Agrabahn diplomatic envoy. They’d brought three Pselvi serpents – minor magical beasts that looked like snakes but shimmered with all the colors of a rainbow – to the court of Sir Maurice as a gesture of goodwill. Fourteen year old Belle had been absolutely entranced by their sinuous otherworldly forms and how the two charmers sang, whistled, and hummed, using the rhythm of their voices to lull the beasts into complacency. They were amused by the young heir to The Marchlands and humored her curiosity (once their animals were safely contained), explaining how the tones and frequencies of the humming interacted with the magical frequency the serpents used to communicate and had a calming effect. If they kept humming and singing, the calm quickly lulled their animals into a trance, making them pliant and easy to handle for even the most magically inept nobleman. But the creatures only remained harmless while entranced; the handlers used singing and instruments to bring them down initially and humming to keep them in a stupor once they were down. They also impressed upon young Belle the need for at least two charmers, to keep the tone going because if it stopped, the magical beasts once again became dangerous and unpredictable.

She listened with fascination and managed to convince the handlers to teach her the basics. During the week they were there, she learned enough to keep a consistent song long enough to stroke the oldest, most amiable serpent on the head.

It was _amazing_. The magic seemed to hum through her hand from the crystalline scales and the creature melted into her grasp happily almost purring with pleasure at her voice. In her imagination, she fantasized making friends with all sorts of magical creatures; they would come to her happily and she could meet all kinds of animals; unicorns, dragons, sprites, griffins…anything and everything she’d read about in her adventure books. In that moment, she became determined to master the Siren’s Charm.

Unfortunately, trade negotiations with the ambassadors broke down when a drunk noble decided to stick his hand into the serpents’ cage without a charmer present and got badly bitten. Her father was forced to take offense on his guest’s part and demand restitution. The proud ambassadors refused to apologize, taking offense at the implication that they were even remotely responsible.

They left in high dudgeon and never came back.

However, Belle’s desire to learn the Siren’s Charm, so she could tame magical animals for friends and pets (and, in her more heroic fantasies, to save people), never died. Over the next decade, she spent her free time practicing the song, the tone, and the hum. Researching the details of charming (why and how it worked, what would make it more effective, what creatures would be affected), and practicing on whatever creatures she could. It didn’t work on cats or dogs, but the occasional wood or water sprite proved invaluable in learning the basics.

The true test came when the ogres attacked. She found herself trapped with her mother and put her talent to use out of sheer self-preservation.  
The ogre fell asleep in less than a minute, buying enough time for her father’s knights to slay it, saving the lives of Belle and her mother.

Suddenly, her eclectic talent – so far laughed off and dismissed as a foolish girl’s useless flight of fancy – became an asset. She was elated for a few days but then it really sunk in that her ability, which she’d learned to make friends and help people, could be used as a weapon. She didn’t regret entrancing the ogre because it had saved her mother’s life – but it felt _wrong_.

Thankfully, she wasn’t called upon to use it much. It only worked on individual creatures in controlled environments, so using it against troops of ogres was impossible and even occasional use made her father uncomfortable. He much preferred Belle to be an average court lady than a beast charmer; seen rather than heard and uninvolved in typical ‘male’ responsibilities (such as fighting ogres).

Then Queen Regina heard about her talent and life got interesting.

Sort of.

Regina saved the Marchlands from the ogres in return for Belle’s services, whisking her away in a cloud of magic. Unfortunately, Belle’s responsibilities generally included staying at Regina’s castle and being quiet unless summoned. The queen _did_ make sure Belle practiced the Siren’s charm, providing a seemingly endless stream of small magical creatures to practice on. With nothing else to occupy her days, she practiced long and hard until she was able to maintain a tone and a trance all by herself for several hours, and could predict exactly how and when a beast would succumb to her charm. Within a year, she had her technique down to a science, working like clockwork against any newcomers. That year was a period of valuable learning and served her talent well…but she didn’t enjoy it. The animals were in cages, miserable when she couldn’t keep them happy, and she was confined to the castle with heartless servants and soldiers and Queen Regina, who watched her with a predator’s eyes and smirked every time one of the animals nuzzled into her grasp. She had the unsettling feeling that the evil sorceress was planning something particularly nasty, with Belle as a pawn.

She’d gone from being a noblewoman caged by society and her father’s rules, to a commodity caged by her…owner? Liege-Lady? It was different…but at the same time, much was the same.

It wasn’t until she helped Snow White and her prince escape, and fled along with them to James’ kingdom, that life REALLY changed.

Because that’s when she learned she could charm the Dark One.


	2. The First Deal

It was three weeks after her liberation that Snow White and her prince spoke to Belle about the Dark One. She’d been pulled between elation and frustration the whole time; elation because she was finally in a position to do something in the war, something other than sit and chafe in the background and follow the decisions of others, and frustration because precious few people _let_ her do anything. The soft life of a sheltered noble woman followed by a year in a luxurious prison hardly recommended her skills. Even her Siren Charm was not put to much use; their enemy was a magic using _human_ with heartless but _human_ soldiers at her command. Regina didn’t even have a dragon that Belle could entrance – a required pet for every evil sorcerer, if her childhood storybooks were right (Snow White laughed when she mentioned it, good-natured and amused. She understood Belle’s lack of interaction with the world – she’d been a pampered princess once, after all.)

So Belle was eager to help when the royals came to her late one night, expressions wary and worried.

Snow spoke first, earnest and sincere, asking how Belle was settling in; did she have everything she needed, had she had any success contacting her family…?

(Belle hadn’t even tried to contact her father beyond a short notification of her health and location, and her communication with her mother had been supportive over her current choice. She didn’t want to return to that sheltered life, waiting to be bartered away to a politically advantageous husband. At least being taken by Regina had been a bit more interesting.)

But they all knew the small talk was just for the sake of politeness. Even Belle, who did not know why they had come, realized quickly; after all, the king and queen did not make covert visits in the middle of the night just to exchange pleasantries.

Finally, after many worried glances had been exchanged between the royals and all small talk subjects had been exhausted, Belle grew tired of waiting for them to explain the reason for their visit.

“Is there something I can help you with?” They exchanged another leaden glance that said more than any of the words they’d spoken so far. “I’d be glad to help.” She pushed gently.

The prince scrubbed a hand over his face, watching her with tired uncertainty, and then nodded in an obvious decision.

“Belle, have you ever heard of the Dark One?”

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin had been expecting the summons for over a week when it finally came. Snow White and Prince Charming had finally gained the upper hand against Regina but required magical assistance to deal with the queen herself and gods knew the fairies were practically useless, so who else would they turn to?

In fact, he’d been rather put out that they were so far behind schedule and begun to wonder uneasily if they’d decided to go on another heroic but stupid quest. He hoped not; they’d spent enough time wandering around the woods looking for each other; the curse was due to be cast soon and they needed to get down to business and create the savior. (Not that the Dark One would _ever_ admit to fretting so much about matchmaking a True Love couple.)

He was so relieved to get the call that he didn’t even bother to summon his coat – they’d both seen him without it anyway, so it wouldn’t hurt his image – just took half a second to fix his posture and erect his ‘evil imp’ persona before transporting himself to the source of Prince Charming’s call.

Therefore, he was utterly surprised to find himself face to face with a young woman he’d never seen before instead of Charming. He stopped short and stared at her while she actually jumped back in surprise and recoiled, eyeing him up and down. Taking the monster’s measure, as it were. Remarkably, she didn’t scream.

“It’s not polite to stare, dearie.” He snipped.

She flushed and looked away, muttering an apology, but Rumpelstiltskin didn’t give her a chance to get it out.

“And who might you be?” he took a predatory step towards her, eyeing her just like she had him (with no regard for manners). Evidently recovered (although her eyes were still wide and wary), she squared her shoulders and opened her mouth to answer –

“Rumpelstiltskin!”

Their heads whipped around to stare at Prince Charming standing in the doorway and Rumpelstiltskin grinned, back on track, the stranger already dismissed (though not forgotten). He flourished a mocking bow to the peasant princeling.

“You called?”

“Leave her alone, beast!”

Rumpelstiltskin tutted in mock offense but danced away when the prince advanced towards him with an expression of grim resolve, a hand reaching for his sword. Would the princeling _never_ learn? The Dark One braced himself for an attack, ready to dodge, parry, or retreat depending on Charming’s exact movement, but it proved unnecessary.

“I’m fine, your highness.” The girl spoke up, remarkably calm and composed for someone who’d just encountered the Dark One for the first time. She even stepped between him and the prince, hand raised as if to ward off her overzealous protector. “He didn’t hurt me.”

Then she turned a warm smile on _him_ , and he froze, confused. He was prepared for an attack, not for _this_. Few people dared smile at the Dark One, and never on first meeting. Rumpelstiltskin cocked his head quizzically and eyed her again, this time with considerably less mocking malice and more probing curiosity. She was certainly a brazen little thing, wasn’t she? He ignored the prince’s glare and addressed his next question to the girl.

“Who _are_ you, dearie?”

“My name is Belle.” She curtseyed prettily, with all the grace of a noble, but he couldn’t help but notice the lack of title and origin in her introduction. His eyes narrowed.

“Belle, is it? And where are you from, _Miss_. Belle?” He pushed, hoping the scorn for her title (or lack of title) would convince her to elaborate.

“That’s not important.” The prince interrupted. “You’re here to deal with _me_ , Rumpelstiltskin.” He looked like he was dreading the prospect (as always) and ready to throw down in a sword fight at the slightest wrong move from the imp (again, as always). Really, you would think their previous deals had ended with widespread death and destruction with the way he was acting.

“And me.” Snow White stood in the doorway, back straight and chin high, meeting his eyes with regal pride. In this setting, she was far more the princess than the bandit. “We want to make a deal, Rumpelstiltskin.”

“So I gathered.” He sneered, reluctantly moving away from the mysterious ‘Belle’. He would have to satisfy his curiosity later.

Rumpelstiltskin was curious to see how the Charmings would handle their most recent plea for aid; they’d never come to him together before and they almost always came to his castle rather than summoning him (unless he saw fit to interfere, of course). It was a mild curiosity at most, though; both of them were straight forward individuals and despised being in his presence. No matter the circumstances, he expected a short demand for a deal, some wrangling to turn the terms in his favor, and a swift resolution. Sometimes, the surroundings really didn’t make much of a difference.

So he was rather surprised when Snow White demanded a full contract (for the first time ever) and when he provided one, she sat down with a resolved expression and the apparent intention of reading through the entire thing. All four feet of densely packed text.

Rumpelstiltskin’s expression twisted in irritation. “Problem, dearie?”

The look he got from Snow was guarded and cool, matched by her loyal watchdog standing at her back with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Charming was more nervous than his wife; his gaze kept darting between the Dark One, the contract, his wife, and (for some reason) Miss Belle.

“You’ve deceived us before.” Snow stated, voice diamond hard. “I will not let it happen again.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s lips pulled back, baring sharp stained fangs in a sneer. “I _always_ keep my deals.”

Realizing she was on the verge of offending him and making a _very_ powerful enemy (she didn’t know he needed her alive, after all), she toned down her hostility, sliding into a more diplomatic tone, though just as resolute. Very regal.

“We simply want to make sure we understand the deal.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that, especially since he’d manipulated them so obviously in the past. He scowled, accepting the explanation with ill grace and turning to pace the room. The polite thing to do would be to send for refreshments but they didn’t offer and he didn’t expect it. He wasn’t exactly a guest.

* * *

As Snow and James spoke with the Dark One – _Rumpelstiltskin_ , she’d have to remember that; names were important – Belle did her best to fade into the background. She stood by a bookcase in the corner, perusing the limited selection to foster the illusion that she did not the care what was happening on the other side of the room. While they spoke, she started to hum quietly deep in her throat.

It was all part of the plan, of course. She’d talked about it at length with the royals; about her abilities and about their target’s possible reactions. In the end it had been decided that she should begin the Charm like this, hoping the low sound would influence the Dark One’s subconscious before he took note of her, and make him more susceptible to her influence when she truly started singing. That and they hoped it would keep him from becoming angry when he realized what was happening.

(Snow and James were worried about the possibility and asked her at least three times if she was _really_ okay with doing this, but she’d smiled bravely and nodded every time. She had to be okay with it; the rescue plan might not work without their ruse.)

When he’d appeared to her rather than James, Belle had been startled and worried that he somehow knew. And when it became obvious he didn’t, she worried that he’d already noticed her and paid her too much attention for her to blend into the background and lay the foundation for her Charm.

However, after that first hiccup, James managed to lure him away and Belle proceeded as planned. Even while Snow was looking over the contract (stalling, mostly, though Belle hoped she truly was reading to understand the terms of the deal). The Dark One paced irritably rather than paying attention to Belle. Every now and then he sniped at or needled James, but when all the answers were abrupt and accompanied by the threat of Charming’s unsheathed sword, he eventually gave up and simply paced.

Gradually, Belle allowed the humming to grow louder, transitioning into soft tones.

And, gradually, the Dark One slowed down. As her Song grew, his steps faltered. The frenetic pacing and hopping around petered out until he was standing still in the middle of the room, looking like he had no idea what he was doing there.

* * *

In Charming’s estimation, the first sign that their plan was working was that the Dark One calmed down.

Normally, even when standing still, he carried with him an air of unrestrained energy, a nervous tension that left him jittery and everyone in his presence on edge. Charming would attest to the fact, having seen him standing and even sitting still before…but never feeling at ease.

When Belle started singing, a low almost inaudible tone in the corner; if you hadn’t been listening for it, you never would have heard it; Rumpelstiltskin’s frantic pacing…paused.

It was gradual; the swift footsteps slowed over the course of ten minutes before stopping altogether. Charming watched out of the corner of his eye, trying not to betray himself by visibly reacting as the Dark One merely stood there, a look of vague confusion on his face as if he couldn’t understand why he’d stopped moving, but couldn’t think of a reason to keep going.

Once he realized he’d stopped, he resumed pacing; but the steps were shorter and faltering, accompanied by, oddly, a slight limp. These weren’t the purposeful strides of twenty minutes ago.

More importantly, that looming bloodthirsty aura; the magic that infused his movements and made him intimidating and larger than life, that made him _The Dark One_ ; began to diminish.

After a few circuits of the room, Rumpelstiltskin stopped again, this time on purpose; and Charming’s heart lodged in his throat.

He’d stopped next to Belle.

Was their ruse at an end?

…But no. Whatever he said to her was too low for the prince to hear, but she grinned in response and showed him the book she’d been reading.

Whenever she spoke, her voice maintained the cadence of her Song – never truly letting the Siren’s effects die, even when she took time to breathe or speak.

In fact, the effects were becoming more obvious by the moment.

Instead of laughing and mocking her, or jumping away and raising his voice at her audacity, the Dark One accepted the book with careful hands and flipped through the pages with apparent calm curiosity.

Charming watched with baited breath, feeling the tension in Snow’s form as she fought not to do the same. (It was believable for him, but she was pretending to read the contract – watching the spectacle on the other side of the room would destroy everything.) It seemed so surreal that it was working. They were actually getting one over on the Dark One!

Rumpelstiltskin did not notice when Belle put a hand on his arm but his head came up and he looked at her when she Sang true…but she’d chosen her moment well. It was already too late to resist; he was completely under her spell. When she placed a gentle hand on his cheek, curiously tracing the line of his scaled cheekbone, he leaned into her rather than pulling away.

Belle caught Charming’s gaze out of the corner of her eye and inclined her head slightly in their predetermined signal for success.

It had _worked_.

Belle had enthralled the Dark One.

* * *

 

The Song never faltered, even as Belle’s heart beat wildly in her chest. She hadn’t expected it to actually _work_.

Of course, it had worked on ogres and sprites, and all manner of less complicated beasts, but the _Dark One_ …

However, there was no mistaking the half-lidded glazed look in his eyes, the complacent submission in the way he bent into her hands. His frenetic energy seemed to have dispersed completely when the charm took effect. She’d seen the exact moment he’d gone under; he’d been looking into her eyes, grumbling about her choice of literature, when he’d suddenly gone silent and then his eyes became blank and his eyelids drooped. Her song must have caught him at exactly the right vulnerable moment.

“Belle?” Snow’s tone was soft, but Belle only paused to shoot the two royals a warning glance, vaguely noting that they were standing up and watching her with wide, disbelieving eyes. At the interruption, her charge stirred, lifting his head slightly and beginning to turn to look at them – which would no doubt break the trance - until she raised the volume of her song and gently directed his eyes back to her with the hand on his cheek.

He came willingly.

Belle smiled gently in response and gestured to the royals outside of his field of view, making hasty sweeping motions towards the door. If they wanted to complete their rescue mission while the Dark One was enthralled, they needed to go NOW.

They went.

She noted out of her peripheral vision that they had left the contract (signed, as agreed upon) on the table for Rumpelstiltskin when he left, but tucked that knowledge away. She’d leave the scroll with him, but drawing his attention away from her song at this point could snap him out of it and the royals needed him out of commission for at least two hours.

The easiest thing to do would be to put him to sleep, so she turned towards the couch in front of the fire, the only place in the room he could comfortably lie down.

The Dark One – Rumpelstiltskin, as she’d recently learned – was cooperative to her gentle guidance. His eyes never lost their half-lidded dazed, entranced expression and she watched carefully to make sure he wasn’t about to snap out of it and attack – he was _far_ more dangerous than anything she’d worked with in the past. And intelligent. She forced down the surge of doubt and uncertainty that resulted from that thought before it could interfere with her gentle crooning. It didn’t feel right to do this to a sentient being, but he was a _threat_ , even more than the ogre she’d entranced to save her mother’s life.

At her nudging, he dropped onto the chaise lounge in front of the fire, leaning into her touch with a soft sigh when she lightly traced the scales along his jawline. With one hand holding the underside of his jaw, she took a long moment to study him, admiring the way the flickering fire danced over his unique skin, painting his scales in shades of bronze, green, and gold. He didn’t look so inhuman in this light, and that caused a surge of sympathy. When his eyes slipped closed under her gentle touch, accompanied by a quiet sigh, the sympathy grew. The poor creature was touch-starved and must be horribly lonely – why else would he respond so strongly to her song?

After a moment’s consideration during which she never allowed her tone to falter and kept one hand tracing soothing circles on his shoulder and the other under his chin, she hiked herself up on the arm of the chaise and lightly tugged him against her, watching carefully for any sign of resistance (any unwelcome show of force on her part would break the trance completely) but there was none. He leaned against her thigh like some sort of pet, eyes closing completely as her hands brushed through his dense curls. They were surprisingly soft, just like his scales. If she closed her eyes, she knew he’d feel just like a human being.

However, he wasn’t human and this close she could really appreciate the differences; she’d never been one to balk from the strange and unfamiliar and she found nothing truly off-putting about his appearance…just curious. She understood why others were unsettled, though; he was just the wrong side of human-like to be comforting. Just human enough for them to expect him to act like them, but strange enough to emphasize just how not human he actually was.

And yet…there were no stories of the Dark One with a kind of his own. In all of the legends she’d heard, he was dealing with humans and always an outsider, a monster to be avoided at all costs.

Always alone.

The two of them stayed that way for almost an hour; Belle humming quietly and gently carding her hand through his tangled curls, and Rumpelstiltskin cuddled against her, slowly sliding from enthrallment into true sleep. No one was attacking or threatening him, nothing was disturbing the peace, and for once his magic was being lulled into complacency right alongside his human mind. His muddled subconscious mind saw no reason to resist her influence.

Belle felt it when he fell asleep, in the way his relaxed body went slack under her hands and his head drooped against the side of the couch. She kept humming for a while longer until she was sure he wasn’t going to wake up immediately, then let the tune slowly die.

He didn’t move.

With all the care in the world, she gently slid off the arm of the couch, nudging him to reposition in his sleep until he was in a more comfortable position. After a moment’s hesitation, she set to work on removing his highly uncomfortable-looking boots (if he was going to sleep on the couch, at least he could do so in comfort). It took a ridiculously long time, but eventually she managed to loosen all the laces and release his feet. Then she draped a blanket over him and left him to sleep peacefully, ready to wait for the Charmings’ return.

Three hours later, the Dark One was still heavily asleep on her couch, the fire had burned down, her eyes were drooping as she tried to read, and the royals had not returned. She was tired from the excitement and the singing, and Rumpelstiltskin had been quiet as a lamb all night. Tiredly, she reasoned that she wasn’t actually doing anything to affect his state, and he definitely wasn’t going to be enthralled when he woke up, so really why shouldn’t she take a nap? She was sure she’d wake up if he made any noise. Maybe she’d been lulled into a false sense of security, or maybe she was just too tired to care, but after a half hour of debating with herself and watching what was left of the flickering flames vanish until only embers remained, she finally gave in to the urging of her body.

She set her guest's boots where he’d be sure to see them as soon as he woke up, tucked the completed contract into his vest pocket, tucked the blanket back over his slumbering form, and stumbled into the adjoining bedroom.


	3. The Second Deal

Rumpelstiltskin woke up slowly, suffused by a pleasant feeling of warm lethargy, feeling more peaceful and content than he had in a long, long time. His eyes blinked open slowly, absently noting the embers in the grate in front of him, the unfamiliar soft surface he was laying on, the blanket draped over his reclining form, and a pillow under his head. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, snuggling into the blanket to go back to sleep.

That was about the point when his groggy brain finally woke up enough to register _“Hey, wait a minute…that’s not right…”_

His eyes snapped back open, suddenly fully awake and realizing h _e did not know where he was_. The pleasant contentment evaporated like smoke between his building anger and (carefully hidden) fear. _Nothing_ should be able to incapacitate the Dark One.

He bolted upright, shoving the blanket away with vicious sharp motions and jumped off the sofa…and instantly stumbled, startled by a change in balance. Someone had…taken his shoes? He could feel the cool stone under the pads of his feet and when he looked down, he found the almost unfamiliar sight of his own bare feet. He rarely took his boots off these days; it actually felt more natural to balance on their heels than to stand flat on the floor.

Why would anyone take his _boots_?

He shook his head, forcing such trivialities away – he could fight just as well in bare feet as in his boots – and sizing up his surroundings. At the sight of the dark stone room and the open doorway heading to an even darker bedroom, memory stirred.  They were _familiar_. That empty table was where the Charmings had reviewed and signed his contract (the lump of which he could feel in his breast pocket). And _that_ bookcase was where he’d approached Belle. _This_ was the sofa was where he’d…watched the fire…with Belle?

He furrowed his brow, blinking rapidly as he tried to make sense of his time enthralled. He remembered all of it and even why he hadn’t protested at the time – he hadn’t been physically _controlled_ \- but looking back…

Cold fury clenched in his chest. Someone had tried to _manipulate_ him.

Magic rose around him, mirroring his anger, and he turned towards the other room, focusing on the deep slumbering breathing he could hear inside.

It was time for answers.

* * *

Belle awoke with a start, breathing heavily and confused as to what had woken her. She hadn’t been dreaming and there was no noise. Not even the animals in the village outside were stirring – it was far, far too late at night for anyone to be out. It was so late, she was fairly certain it could be considered early…but there was no light coming her small window, not even moonlight.

Confused and sleepily irritated at being awakened, she yawned and pushed up into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes and allowing her bedsheets to fall around her waist. It took her an embarrassingly long time to notice the Dark One standing at the foot of her bed. In fact, she probably wouldn’t have noticed him at all in the darkness if he hadn’t waved an arm and suddenly thrown her bedchamber into light from a dozen magic-lit candles.

She stifled a shriek of surprise and froze, staring at him. What small ire she felt drained away into dread.

His large eyes glittered at her in the flickering candlelight, expression hard, but what really conveyed his anger was his complete lack of movement. Last night, he’d been relaxed and pliant, soft and harmless in his stillness.

There was no sign of that docility in him now.

THIS stillness was the posture of a snake about to strike or a tiger sizing up prey. She’d come to think of him as Rumpelstiltskin while he was under her thrall but _this_ was the Dark One.

And he was _not happy_. The silence concealed jagged fangs ready to rip out her throat.

She opened her mouth, but he made a sharp gesture and the breath whooshed from her lungs without making a sound. His smirk was nasty.

“I don’t think so, dearie.” He growled, the low tone somehow more intimidating than his fey giggles the night before. He wandered around the bed, feigning casual but every movement was sharp, purposeful and upset. He wasn’t acting the showman he had for his deal with Snow and Prince Charming before Belle caught him in her song. No, this was far more honest, and far more terrifying.

Belle refused to back away as he stalked closer, knowing that showing any sign of weakness could spell her death. Predators took advantage of any opening, no matter how small. Instead, she swallowed and raised her chin, meeting his eyes.

He smirked but there was no real amusement in it, just dark anger boiling behind his eyes, waiting for a chance to explode. She’d heard people call him a demon before, but this was the first time she truly felt scared for her life.

“Tell me, _Miss. Belle_ , what was the plan?” He sneered. “Distract me with your sorcery and then slip a knife between my ribs? I can assure you, I’m not so easy to kill.”

_‘What? No!’_ But when Belle opened her mouth to protest, no sound came out. All she could do was emphatically shake her head.

“No? Imprisonment, then? Were you planning to keep me helpless until your heroes managed to cobble together chains and a cage for me?” He laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound and there was a stirring anger in his tone when he mentioned Snow and James that gave Belle the sinking realization that their plot might have backfired horribly; the Dark One was MUCH more dangerous than Queen Regina when angry. At least Regina was human; Rumpelstiltskin was akin to an elemental force of darkness.

She shook her head again, trying to convey her sincerity with her eyes. He curled his lip back in a sneer then stalked away, pacing next to her bed without ever averting his eyes.

He was nervous, she realized, and upset. She felt a pang of conscience for enthralling him. She could only hope her mistake wouldn’t be a deadly one and stealing his free will, if only temporarily, wasn’t an unforgivable offense. She would NOT be using her charm on any other intelligent beings in the future, if this was the result.

Rumpelstiltskin only paced for a few minutes before coming to a halt right next to her, looming threateningly over her still-seated form. She watched him hopefully.

When she didn’t cringe away in fear, he scowled.

“One chance, dearie. I’ll not tolerate another attempt at sorcery.”

She nodded.

With a twist of his fingers, her breath was forced out silently, and her voice returned on the next inhale.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, sincerely.

He snarled at her. “I’d suggest you get talking, dearie.” She didn’t miss the fact that he kept his hand raised, ready to steal her voice again if she tried to sing. That was alright; she wasn’t going to be doing that without his permission.

“I’m sorry for frightening you.”

He blinked once, slowly, then more rapidly, befuddled by her earnest tone and unexpected words.

“…What?”

“I’m sorry for frightening you.” She swung her legs around so she could sit on the edge of the bed and faced him head on (though she didn’t try to stand). Automatically, he took a step back to give her room to complete the motion. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I wasn’t _scared_ , girl!” He protested, though there was less heat behind it, mostly due to the surprising turn of the conversation.

“Alright.” She didn’t believe him but wouldn’t press. She continued before he could do more than huff in indignation. “We meant you no harm. I give you my word. Snow and David just wanted me to distract you for a few hours and, well…it was a little more effective than we expected.”

He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. Calmer, she was relieved to see, although the measuring glint in his eyes gave her a whole new reason to be worried.

“Distracted? Why?”

She hesitated and he frowned. “I’d not push me if I were you, my dear.”

It was a threat, but an expected done. Belle sighed; he had a right to know, considering it was why she had enthralled him. And the information wasn’t a secret since the mission was already over; knowledge of the broad facts wouldn’t implicate the people involved, either. There was no reason not to tell him.

“They wanted to keep you from interfering while they snuck into Regina’s dungeon.”

His eyebrows arched. “That’s it?”

“It was important!”

He snorted. “My dear, I have little doubt _they_ thought it was. Was there any reason _specifically_ they thought I would be interested?”

Belle shrugged. She honestly did not know and he read the truth in her expression.

He hummed and relaxed a fraction further. “Seems I’ll need to have a _talk_ with our heroes.” His grin was full of malice.

“What? No!” Belle reached towards him, alarmed. “Please, leave them alone. They didn’t hurt you.”

Rumpelstiltskin snickered. “You should be more worried about yourself, my dear.” His eyes sharpened on her. “You said your sorcery was more effective than expected. How?”

Belle frowned. “First, it isn’t _sorcery_.” The word was spoken with irritation. She hated it when people made that mistake – because they _always_ made it. He arched a brow but said nothing as she continued. “It’s called the Siren’s Charm or the Song of the Siren and anyone can use it once they know how.” She caught the flicker of alarm that crossed his expression before he suppressed it and hastened to reassure him. “But almost no one knows about it, I promise. I learned from an Agrabahan snake-charmer when I was a child.” She smiled faintly at the fond memory before continuing. “Normally it can be used to soothe magical… erm…”

“Monsters?” His tone was sardonic, but she frowned at him just the same.

“ _Creatures_.” She corrected, chiding. “But normally it just calms them down. If they’re willing to listen, it makes them less aggressive.” She met his eyes earnestly. “The song can only work if the target is receptive and even then…” she shook her head, looking at him with sorrow. “You must be terribly lonely.”

“… _What_?” He gaped at her, pure shock on his face, at her brazen audacity or words, she couldn’t tell.

“It’s rare for any creature to respond so fast and so strong. It usually happens when a pack animal is separated from its family.”

He stiffened.

“I think…they find a connection in the song. Or maybe they’re missing an anchor to keep them from succumbing. I don’t know. But I am sorry – I had no idea that would happen to you. I was surprised it worked at all, to be honest. I won’t do it again.”

“You’d better not.” He snapped. “You said it only works sometimes – the effects can be avoided?”

“Of course. It isn’t actually magic. Any creature that doesn’t want to be enthralled can resist.”

Rumpelstiltskin glowered at her. “ _I_ didn’t want it.” She bit her lip. “I _didn’t_.” She just gave a halfhearted shrug. He scowled.

When he lapsed into thoughtful silence, she swallowed. She knew what would come next; if he wanted to make sure it never happened again, the easiest way was to make her incapable of using the Siren’s Charm. He could do it magically, but it would probably be easier to take away her voice entirely, or kill her altogether. She had no doubt he was capable of either choice.

Rumpelstiltskin’s thoughts were indeed running down those lines and he might have killed her right then and there…if that would have solved the problem. But, by her admission, this was a learned skill rather than an inborn talent. Even with her dead, someone else could easily take her place. And now that the Charmings and Regina knew he was susceptible, they would comb the Forest for anyone else with the ability if he killed Belle.

No, killing her would not solve his problem.

“I could…show you, if you’d like?” Belle ventured hesitantly, after watching him pace and fidget for a good five minutes.

His eyes flashed and it looked like he was going to lash out, so she held up her hands to placate him. “Only if you want! I thought…you might find it easier to resist if you know what it feels like.”

His narrow glare was not reassuring.

“Only if you want me to.” She reassured him.

Rumpelstiltskin grumbled quietly. The galling thing was that she was _right_. If it was truly resistible and he was extra susceptible for some reason, then practice and foreknowledge might be the weapons he needed to make sure this experience wasn’t repeated. But how could he trust her? She’d already put him under once without his consent. What was to stop her from doing it again?

…But she hadn’t actually _done_ anything to him while he was enthralled and she did seem awfully earnest (foolishly so, but that was a hero for you). And if he recalled correctly, the enthrallment was a gradual process. If it looked like she was reneging on her word, he could stop her from going too far. Violently, if necessary.

He wasn’t likely to get another chance if he killed her.

“I’ll make you a deal, dearie.” He came to a halt in front of Belle, sizing her up and down as she straightened to attention, brimming with hopeful sincerity. “You demonstrate the first part of this song of yours; just the first bit, mind, and if I tell you to stop, you _stop_.” She nodded, smiling. “And in return, I will not kill you for this stunt of yours.” He allowed his voice to turn cold on the last line and watched her swallow and shudder. “Deal?”

“And Snow and James.”

“…What?”

“You won’t kill me or Snow or James.”

He snorted. He wasn’t planning to kill them; he still needed them alive for the curse to be cast – a distinction Belle did not share -  but he wasn’t about to tell her any of that. “And why would I do that?”

“They are less to blame for your enthrallment than I was.” She returned firmly. “And they truly meant you no harm.”

“Fine, fine.” He flicked a dismissive hand and she relaxed. He didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a close thing; she’d only precluded _killing_ them, after all. If he wanted, he could still do any number of unpleasant things to the foolish royals or have someone else kill them for him. She’d covered her bases better than most people, but not nearly enough if he was truly out for vengeance.

Luckily for Belle, he wasn’t.

“In return for your assistance in this matter, I will refrain from killing you, Snow White, or her prince as revenge for your actions against me earlier tonight. Deal?”

She smiled and nodded. “Deal.”

“Well, go on then.” He crossed his arms and cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “Sing.”

Belle straightened her back, let out a steadying breath, and began to hum, starting slow and following her normal pattern. She allowed the hum to build, added a little variation after half a minute, moved on to a vocal tone after five, and allowed the song to strengthen so she could prepare for-.

“Stop.”

She stopped.

He was standing still with his feet planted wide and breathing in quick, shallow pants. He didn’t look happy.

She stood up, concerned, and moved toward him. “Are you alright? I didn’t mean-.”

“I’m fine.” He snapped, flinching away from her touch. “Do it again.”

“…Are you sure? You don’t look-.”

“Reneging on your deal, dearie?”

“No, of course not.” Belle eyed him dubiously, but if it was what he wanted…She re-started with a deep hum as the Dark One shifted restlessly.

* * *

They kept at it for hours; Belle repeating the first few minutes of her Song while Rumpelstiltskin alternately tensed and relaxed, depending on where she was in it. No matter how many times she repeated it, he couldn’t seem to resist completely.

He _wanted_ to succumb. It felt _good_.

But it wasn’t for the reasons he’d feared; there was no magic inherent in Belle’s actions, no spell meant to keep him docile and submissive. No, this was more akin to…say, a lullaby. No control; just a soothing feeling of intense peace left behind when the frequency of her singing met the frequency of his magic, not suppressing or controlling it, just dulling it.

Even the Dark Curse was not immune; it was lulled into complacency, perhaps even more prone to control than the beasts she’d used it on in the past because it _was_ so strong and as such responded more strongly. And Rumpelstiltskin, so used to being crushed under the malevolent weight of his curse, was attracted to the pleasant peace out of sheer self-preservation.

In other words, it was the man, not the monster, that fell hardest under Belle’s spell.

And what a spell it was; not magic – she likely didn’t have a single magical bone in her body – but a good heart and true intentions lent power of their own type. The power wasn’t like a TRUE siren’s abilities which depended on deception and led to death and might be avoided if the one being enthralled could convince him or herself that their loved one was not actually there; proof of the deception was enough to destroy the siren’s spell.

Belle’s song carried no such evil motivations. There was no deception apparent, but an honest offer of serenity, no strings attached. And it was so, _so_ tempting, especially to one so mentally fractured as Rumpelstiltskin, though he assumed most magical creatures would follow her like ducklings for her promise of peace.

The reason he couldn’t resist? _His instincts didn’t want him to._

Even the curse wasn’t up in arms and demanding he kill the girl; it didn’t consider her a threat; it was his reaction that as the problem.

As good as it felt, he could not stand by while his enemies had the power to enthrall him at will, no matter how or why.

Belle turned a hopeful smile on him and he frowned, shaking off the most recent bout of pleasant lethargy.

“Do it again.”

* * *

They kept working at it until the first rays of dawn were shining weakly through Belle’s window and both participants were exhausted. Belle had barely slept all night and her chest and throat were becoming tight, hot, and scratchy from singing and humming for so long. Rumpelstiltskin had been fighting her influence for just as long and his mind was becoming fuzzy and slow, badly affected by the continuous sharp shifts between anger and focus vs. soft compliance and docility. About halfway through their efforts, he’d gotten tired of standing and pacing and instead sat down on the bed next to Belle.

He’d chosen his perch to make her uncomfortable, but it backfired; she wasn’t nervous in his presence (not after how he’d been cuddled up to her last night) and he found her willingness to be near him unnerving – he wound up backing away a few feet for his own peace of mind.

Belle watched him; even this far along, she was still fascinated by his unique appearance – maybe even more so now that she’d had a chance to touch, but been forbidden since then. She’d also grown accustomed to watching him start each Song with wide, wary eyes which slowly unfocused, eyelids drooping and posture loosening…until he shook himself out of it, made her stop, and they started over again.

The whole night passed like that, regular as clockwork. It was when the constant rhythm broke that Belle realized something had gone wrong.

Belle was humming the same familiar bars and watching her companion absently, more focused on her thoughts than on him (it had been a long, long night)…and suddenly realized she’d been going for twenty minutes rather than the usual ten, and Rumpelstiltskin’s head was drooping forwards, eyes almost closed and hands limp in his lap. Hesitantly, she reached out to touch his hand and he looked at her with the same doe-eyed trusting expression he’d worn while enthralled.

She let her hum die away but to her alarm, he didn’t immediately snap out of it, just kept staring it her expectantly, quietly waiting for her to say something. Gently, she raised her hand to his cheek and studied his face intently, lingering on his distant eyes. To her surprise, not even that touch was enough to pull him out.

“…Rumpelstiltskin?”

He blinked once, slowly, then once again. Awareness seeped back into his gaze gradually until he closed his eyes, concentrating so hard that a deep furrow appeared on his brow.

His movements were sluggish as he leaned away from her and knocked her hand away from him. Belle let it fall before he decided to become angry.

“I think that’s enough for today, my dear.” He sounded as drained as she felt

She would always blame the surreal, peaceful atmosphere for what happened next; that fey time and feeling in the early dawn when nothing seemed quite real and any idea seemed sane no matter how foolish. But she wasn’t the only one. Rumpelstiltskin would equally blame the hour and exhaustion for his decision to go along with her.

“We could always try again later.” Belle said quietly, the suggestion as easy as breathing.

The Dark One – terror of the Enchanted Forest, demon and beast to all he met - blinked at her with large, slightly unfocused eyes, looking more like a confused puppy than a monster.

“I suppose that would be best.”

He stood up and walked a few steps away, for once without much spring in his step. He looked to Belle once last time, a smile – a pale imitation of the one he’d given earlier, but far more genuine for it – curled the edges of his lips.

“’Til next time, dearie.”

Belle laughed and smiled at him. “I’ll look forward to it.”

With a wave of his hand, he vanished in a cloud of red smoke and Belle was left fully alone, finally able to go to sleep.

In the Dark Castle, Rumpelstiltskin stumbled to his spinning wheel to settle his mind and wound up falling asleep slumped over it.

It wasn’t until the next day when they’d both rested that they realized they had both willing agreed to meet again.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you like it, rainydaybatsy!
> 
> Merry Christmas in July!


End file.
